


Atelier

by JJ91



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Grantaire, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ91/pseuds/JJ91
Summary: They didn't ask each other about their lives and they didn't talk about what they were exactly. They just were, within the four walls of Grantaire's atelier.





	

Enjolras lived with him now, Grantaire guessed. He guessed because it wasn't actually something they'd talked about. They never talked much.

Grantaire lived in his atelier. Small, damp, in one of the outskirts of Paris. Most of the space was taken up by painting supplies, it was his atelier after all. In one of the corners of the room lay a ratty, stained mattress that he'd come to share with Enjolras.

He didn't even knew how they exactly came to this arrangement. He knew though that he had barely enough money to feed himself on a daily basis and Enjolras didn't pay rent. Then again, Enjolras wasn't here for most of the time and most importantly, he didn't eat Grantaire's food. That is, when he had some. He also stayed away from Grantaire's booze.

He'd probably taken Enjolras home once, after drinking too much and apparently the guy had come back. Or he'd never left. Grantaire didn't know exactly.

He didn't really know much about Enjolras. He did know the boy was a strange beauty though, because that was what he really was... a boy. Young, oh so young and beautiful above all. Grantaire didn't really do muses, but if someone asked (and they didn't but, if, just if) he'd tell them Apollo was his muse. This boy, his beautiful Apollo who he'd paint in the morning light and who he'd fuck in the late, dark hours of the night.

One morning Grantaire had asked the boy to pose for him naked after they'd fucked. When he'd agreed, he painted the boy in all his youthful beauty, with the bruises the size of Grantaire's fingers on his hips and the bite marks that fit Grantaire's teeth on his clavicle.

Some days the boy would come home with different bruises, ones that didn't find their origin in Grantaire's touch. They weren't the type of bruises you'd get in the throes passion, or maybe you did, but it would be passion of a different kind. Grantaire recognized those as bruises from fights. Brought to a body in a less loving manner. On those days he'd wonder what de boy did in day time, when he wasn't around. He never asked though, as it wasn't their way.

They didn't ask each other about their lives and they didn't talk about what they were exactly. They just were, within the four walls of Grantaire's atelier.

**Author's Note:**

> Almost two years after my last fic there is new fic. Yay. Please leave comments/kudos. They're greatly appreciated. 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr here: [JJ91s](http://www.jj91s.tumblr.com/).Thanks for reading!


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